Dark Side of the Glass
by dnachemlia
Summary: Set after Family Remains. Dean wakes up to find Sam gone, and it goes downhill from there. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

This plot bunny attacked, and I couldn't get it out of my head. It's probably been done before, but nothing's ever truly original, is it?

Please let me know if it's interesting enough to continue.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada, yada.

* * *

**Dark Side of the Glass**

Chapter 1

Dean awoke, jolted out his restless slumber by yet another nightmare. He sat up, heart pounding, and nervously glanced around the dim interior of the shabby motel room.

_Just a dream. Not real…_

He looked over at Sam's unoccupied and still made bed and groaned inwardly. On the upside, Sam hadn't been around to witness another one of his nightmares, but his absence never boded well in Dean's world.

"Better not be off with that bitch Ruby again," Dean muttered. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, searching the room for evidence of Sam's whereabouts. Dean's own bag lay crumpled in the far corner next to the door, but the room was otherwise empty of their possessions. The laptop and Sam's duffle were gone.

"Dammit, Sammy…"

Dean felt a rush of anger quickly followed by guilt. After he had told Sam about his time in Hell, when the truth had finally come out, he had half expected Sam to walk away. Dean wouldn't have blamed him, after the things he had done, but Sam assured him he understood, or at least would not condemn Dean for his acts in the Pit. Now it appeared that Sam was unable to fulfill his promise. Dean considered this possibility for a few moments, and finally shook his head.

_Get a grip, Dean. He's probably just out loading the car._

He walked over to the door and opened it, blinking in the bright sunlight. The parking lot was empty.

_OK, so maybe he went to get breakfast…_

He checked his watch and saw that it was 4:30.

_So, not breakfast. Dinner?_ _I seriously need to LoJack that kid._ He reached into his pocket for his cell phone and came up empty handed.

_Right, probably on the nightstand_. He turned back towards the interior of the room and looked, but the nightstand was bare save for a tarnished brass lamp. No alarm clock, either. He wondered if it had always been absent, or was just hidden away. He had noticed Sam's aversion to such devices on several occasions, but had decided not to ask.

Dean walked over to his duffle and started rummaging around and immediately drew back. His duffle, aside from a few articles of clothing, was empty. No phone, and more importantly, no weapons.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Had his brother decided that he couldn't be trusted? He went back to his bed and checked under the pillow for his knife, but it too was gone. Dean cursed in frustration and threw the pillow across the room.

"What the fuck?!" He searched the rest of the room and came up empty. Finally he stormed out the door to the parking lot.

"SAM!"

He stomped to the edge of the lot by the highway, barely noticing the burn of the blacktop under his bare feet, and looked both ways. There wasn't a car, or a person, in sight. The area was utterly silent.

_Wait a minute…_

He turned back towards the motel, expecting to see curious faces at the window, other patrons witnessing his rampage, but the place was deserted. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle as his eyes swept the exterior of the motel.

_Definitely not right… _

Quickly he strode back to his room and shut the door, latched the chain and turned the lock before he searched the room one more time. Finally he sat back on the bed and tried to calm his rapid breathing and heartbeat.

_It's just a dream…another nightmare…or maybe it's that fucking Trickster and he's decided to take me on this time._

"It's not going to work, you know," he called out to the silent room. "I'm not falling for it. Just let me out of this…loop or whatever it is and maybe I won't stake your sorry ass."

His comment was greeted by more silence.

"This is getting old. C'mon…you son of a BITCH!"

Nothing.

He slammed his fist against the nightstand, hoping to break something in this illusion, but it remained solid. With a sigh, he stood and stomped into the bathroom. He'd just have to wait until the Trickster got bored and let him go.

He turned on the cold water faucet and bent down to splash his face, hoping the shock of the frigid liquid would wake him up, but when he straightened up and looked around, nothing had changed. He turned back to the sink and looked into the mirror.

And froze.

His reflection was staring back at him with the same freaked out expression, but something was different. His eyes snapped downward to look at the clothes he was wearing and snapped back up, the unbelieving expression still there. He was wearing a plain grey t-shirt. His reflection wore black.

"What in the Hell…?" He started to ask. His reflection remained still, unspeaking, as its eyes narrowed in suspicion. Its expression quickly morphed to anger.

Dean took a step back, away from that not-mirror image as it finally moved, drawing a gun from behind its back and pointing it directly at him.

* * *

A/N: The title comes from a song used in an old episode of a TV show I used to watch, Forever Knight.

This story has nothing to do with vampires, though. Sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to those who have added this story to their alerts and favorites, and a special thank you to those who left a review. It looks like y'all have found this interesting, so here's a little more.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada, yada.

* * *

**Dark Side of the Glass**

Chapter 2

Dean awoke, jolted out his restless slumber by yet another nightmare. He sat up, heart pounding, and nervously glanced around the dim interior of the shabby motel room.

_Just a dream. Not real…_

He looked over at Sam's bed and groaned inwardly. On the upside, his brother was there, propped up against the headboard, laptop balanced on his knees. On the downside, he had witnessed the effects of one of Dean's all too frequent nightmares, and was staring at him with that just-beaten-puppy expression that caused Dean's insides to churn in misery. He hated that look, hated the distress he was causing his brother, hated the guilt he could never wash away.

"Hey," said Sam, his voice pitched to convey calm and comfort. "You okay?"

"Peachy," muttered Dean as he sat up, swung his legs off the bed, and winced when his boots hit the floor with a solid thump. He followed Sam's gaze to the pile of dried mud on the bedspread.

"Maid's gonna love that," Sam deadpanned.

"I'll leave her a tip." Dean rubbed the small of his back where his pistol, tucked in his waistband, had left an impression. "Find anything interesting?"

"Maybe. A supposedly haunted cemetery a few counties over."

"Huh. Ghosts in a cemetery. Who would have thought?"

Sam shot him a dirty look. Dean managed to emit a dry chuckle.

"What else?"

Sam clicked on another link. "Two reported cases of spontaneous human combustion in Kennesaw."

"No such thing. Next?"

"A rash of Chupacabra sightings a couple of hours south of Amarillo… and reports of a black dog in Jonesboro, Arkansas. Otherwise, not much. Maybe we should take a br--."

"Hey, I'm always in the mood to waste a goatsucker. Looks like we're headed for Texas." Dean stood, ignoring his brother's look of exasperation and clomped over to his duffle to retrieve some clean clothes and to check his cell phone for messages. While rummaging around in the bag, he noticed a few specks of rust on the barrel of one of his sawed-offs. _Time to clean the guns_. Quickly he discovered his shaving kit was missing. _Damn, must have left it in the car._

"Be right back." He opened the door and stepped out into parking lot. Dean glanced up at the darkening sky and hastened to retrieve his kit before the first few drops of cold rain started to fall. When he got back to the room, Sam was still sitting on the bed, his laptop shut.

"Dean, seriously, man, maybe we should--."

"I'll be out in a few", Dean said as he gathered up his clothes before heading for the bathroom. "We'll go get breakfast and head south," he said, pretending not to notice his brother's pinched expression.

"It's 4:30 in the afternoon, Dean."

"Fine. Early dinner, then." He stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, glad to be cut off from his brother's scrutiny.

After a quick shower, Dean pulled on a black t-shirt and jeans, tucked the gun back into his waistband, and set his kit on the sink. He glanced at the mirror, catching his reflection.

And froze.

He watched, wide-eyed, as the grey-clad image in the mirror turned and met his gaze. Its eyes widened in surprise, then flicked downward and back, checking itself, before staring straight at him.

"_What in the Hell…?_" it asked, puzzlement and fear clear in its voice.

_Demon? Doppelganger? Bloody-fucking-Mary?_ Dean felt a surge of anger as he reached behind his back, drew his gun and pointed it at the mirror.

* * *

Sam paused by the bathroom door when he heard Dean's voice.

"_What in the Hell...?"_

The voice sounded odd, tinny. Sam listened harder and was met by silence. Then:

"_Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Just wait a minute_…" The panic in his brother's voice spurned Sam into action, drawing his own gun and slamming the door open. The first thing he saw was his brother, jaw clenched, gun pointed at the mirror. Sam automatically turned his own gun towards the mirror, and stopped, staring in disbelief. The image in the mirror was Dean, but _not_ _Dean_. Its hands were raised in supplication and its eyes were fixed on the barrel of Dean's, _his Dean's_, gun.

"What in the Hell…? Sam echoed the question he had heard in just moments before. The mirror Dean's eyes flicked over to him and a look of complete confusion crossed its face.

"_Sammy_?" it asked, scared but oddly hopeful. Sam recognized the tinny quality of the voice he had heard earlier.

"Don't call him that!" growled the Dean standing next to Sam. "What are you? Why are you here?"

"I'm…" It paused, listening. Sam though he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. The Dean in the mirror broke eye contact and looked over its shoulder.

"Sam!" it called out before looking back at the brothers. Suddenly a figure stepped into the frame behind the mirror Dean, gave them a look of shear terror, and grabbed the mirror Dean by the shoulder. Sam's gaze locked with his own mirror image for a split second before the mirror went dark, and suddenly he was looking at his own horrified reflection.

* * *

Still interesting? Please let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again to all those who have added this story to their alerts and to those who have left reviews. Two more short (sorry about that) chapters from the different "sides" (another character will appear in chapter 4), and everything should become clear in Chapter 5. Chapter 6 will be an epilogue.

ETA: I saw some continuity mistakes I made, so I fixed them. Sorry about that.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada, yada.

Dark Side of the Glass

Chapter 3

Dean stared at the mirror image in alarm as he slowly raised his hands in the air, wondering if it was really possible for a reflection to shoot him. He saw its jaw tighten and its finger start to close over the trigger of the gun and decided he really didn't want to find out.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. Just wait a minute," he exclaimed. A few seconds later the door behind the reflection burst open and another figure, brandishing a gun, stepped into the room. It paused for a second, quickly turned to face Dean, and said _"What in the Hell…?"._ Dean took a closer look and felt his heart slam in his chest.

"Sammy?" he asked, clinging to a faint hope that with the appearance of his previously missing brother, some of this would start to make sense, but the Sam in the mirror remained silent, it's widening almost comically in apparent disbelief.

"_Don't call him that_," growled Dean's mirror image. "_What are you? Why are you here?"_

"I'm--." Suddenly, Dean heard to motel door open and shut. _That has to be Sam, _my_ Sam._

"Sammy!" he yelled over his shoulder before returning his attention to the mirror. It would be just his luck to get shot while his back was turned. He heard the door open and sensed Sam step into the room. Suddenly he felt his brother's vice-like grip on his shoulder and the mirror went black. A split second later he was staring at his own reflection, the fear he had felt evident on his face. He looked up to meet Sam's gaze in the mirror and flinched when he saw his brother's terrified expression. He quickly turned to face him.

"Sam? What…?"

Sam continued to stare at the mirror for a few moments before meeting Dean's horrified gaze.

"Dean…what happened?"

"I don't know, man. I woke up, you weren't here, and I went outside to look for you. There's something wrong, here, Sam. This place, it's completely deserted. At first I thought it was the Trickster again. But when I got back in the room and came in here, I saw…well, you saw it, too? Could still be the Trickster, but…what the Hell? After everything else, we have to deal with doppelgangers?"

"They weren't—."

"Or is it just our luck to get a room with a Bl—well, you-know-who-style haunted mirror?" Dean turned back to the mirror and tried to pry it from the wall but it wouldn't budge. "Damn it!" He brushed past Sam to retrieve his leatherman from his duffle when he remembered it was gone.

"And another thing: all my weapons are gone, my cell phone is gone, too. What the Hell, Sammy? You not trusting me, now? You had to make sure I can't hurt you if I happen to turn on you? You know, a little nostalgia taking over? A need for a little torture, just like old times in the Pit?"

"No, Dean…it's not--."

"You were gone, your stuff was gone, what was I supposed to think? And then you get back and…" Dean's eyes tracked to the door. "Wait a minute. I locked that. How--?" He turned to Sam, but his brother had stumbled over to one of the beds and was sitting with his back to Dean, his head bowed, palms pressed to his face.

"Sam?" Dean then noticed his brother was actually _shaking_. "Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong?" He scrubbed his hand over his face as he felt a surge of guilt. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" He gripped Sam's shoulder, hoping the contact would calm Sam like it used to.

"Dean…no, I'm sorry. It's all my fault."

"No, Sam, don't--."

"I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for you to…I don't know how this happened. I guess I let my guard down, and…Dean, I'm so sorry."

"What are you talking about, Sam? You know what happened, what that was in the mirror?"

Sam nodded, his face still hidden in his hands.

"I never wanted you to see this. I was trying to protect you. After everything you've done, all you've suffered, I thought I could just…I didn't want you to know."

"Know what? Sam? You're freaking me out here, little brother. What's going on?"

Sam raised his head and turned to face him. Dean flinched, his back hitting the wall before he even realized he had propelled himself away from the thing sitting there. As he stared, horror-struck, into its murky yellow eyes, a question he had heard so many months ago flashed through his mind:

"_How certain are you that what you brought back is 100% pure Sam?"_


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again to those who have shown interest in this story.

Another short chapter (but longer than the last), and another character.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada, yada.

Dark Side of the Glass

Chapter 4

Sam blinked and slowly lowered his gun. His reflection followed his exact movements, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. _That was too weird_.

"Did you see that?" asked Dean. "Tell me you saw that and I'm not going crazy…er."

"I'm not sure _what_ I saw," replied Sam. He stepped forward and cautiously brushed his fingers across the surface of the mirror. "What happened before I got here?"

"Pretty much what you saw. The 'reflection' moved by itself. It saw me and…kinda freaked out a bit. It asked what was going on."

"I heard it. I thought it was you." Sam drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. "What do you think they were?"

"I don't know, Bloody Mary's handsome…and not-so-handsome cousins? Fetches?" Dean paused. "Just what we need, more bad omens."

"I don't think so. They were…sentient, whatever they were. They were aware of us, and apparently just as freaked out. You ever hear of anything like this?"

"No. Now can we get out of here? It's getting kind of stuffy." Dean brushed past Sam and head back out to the main room. Sam took one last glance at the mirror before following.

"I'll check online, see what I can find. You check Dad's journal, then call Bobby. Maybe he's heard of something." Sam pulled his laptop out of the bag and opened it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean pull their father's journal out of the duffle and settle back on the bed with it. They had been working in silence for a few minutes, when Sam noticed the pattern of Dean's breathing had changed dramatically.

"Dean?" He turned to his brother and saw that he was staring back, a look of complete terror on his face. _Oh crap…_ "Dean, what's wrong? _Dean?_" Suddenly he propelled himself backward as fast as he could until his back hit the wall behind the bed with an audible _thump_.

"No! _No, no, no, no_! _Stay away from me!_"

Sam froze. _It's a flashback. Damn it! I knew he was repressing too much! Now it's breaking through. I have to get through to him_ right now!

"Dean! It's me! It's Sam. You're OK, you're here with me. You need to calm down," Sam cajoled, but Dean's breathing became more labored, his eyes, focused on some unseen landscape, flicked back and forth in panic. "Dean, please, look at me! It's going to be all right. Please." Without warning, Dean screamed, a deep, guttural cry that immediately reminded Sam of the sounds his brother had made while being torn apart by invisible Hellhounds. He doubled over in obvious pain before falling on his side, thrashing.

"_NO! Please, no!"_

Sam scrambled towards his duffle and grabbed a bottle of holy water. He twisted the cap and threw the contents at his brother in desperation. Nothing happened. His brother continued to twist and turn until he suddenly sat upright and flopped back on the bed, spread-eagle. Sam watched in horror as Dean's right shoulder began to darken and a pool of red started to form on his left side.

"_Oh, God, somebody…help me! SAM!"_

"_DEAN!"_ Sam grabbed one of his shirts and rushed to Dean's side. He pressed the shirt against Dean's abdomen, trying to stop the blood flow. He looked into his brother's eyes, half expecting them to have that glazed look that had haunted his dreams for months. Instead they were rolling wildly in their sockets, viewing horrors that Sam could not see as he began to scream wordlessly.

"Dean! Stay with me, man! I'll--." Sam heard the door behind him crash open. He turned, ready to scream at the intruder, and stopped when he saw the figure standing in the doorway.

"Castiel? _Castiel!_ Help him, _please_!" Sam heard a rush of wings and turned to see the angel standing on the other side of the bed, looking down at Dean. He reached out and touched two fingers to Dean's forehead, silencing him instantly and causing Dean's eyes to snap shut. Dean lay on the bed, utterly still. Sam pressed his fingers to Dean's neck and almost collapsed in relief when he felt the steady beat beneath. He looked up at Castiel, whose inhuman gaze was still fixed on Dean. "Is he--?"

"What happened?" Castiel asked, and the edge to his voice caused Sam to shrink in fear.

"I…I don't know. One minute, he was fine, and the next, he started freaking out, and then he just started bleeding..."

"Before that. Something happened. What was it?"

"We, uh, saw something. In the mirror."

Castiel turned his gaze to Sam. "What did you see?"

"Us. Uh, we saw two things in the mirror that looked like us, but weren't. They…saw us too, and it frightened them, I guess. We were trying to figure out what it was when…" He glanced down at Dean's still form. "When Dean…"

"What exactly did these things do?"

"Dean said the one that looked like him talked, asked what the H…heck was going on. I guess then Dean pulled out his gun and, I heard it from the other side of the door, it tried to get him to stop. That's when I went in and saw it. It called me 'Sammy'…only Dean calls me that…" Sam mused as he felt a new surge of fear mixed with sadness.

"Then what?"

"Then the one that looked like me showed up. It grabbed the other one and they disappeared and the mirror went back to being a regular mirror. That's it." Sam glanced down at his brother. "Is he…will he be OK?"

Castiel reached out and placed his hand on Dean's forehead. For several moments he remained perfectly still with his head tilted slightly and a curious expression on his face as if he was listening to something only he could hear. Just as Sam was about to ask again, the angel's expression changed.

"There." He looked at Sam. "Do not touch him until he awakes or until I return."

"What? Why?"

"Do not touch him. His life, and yours, depends on it," Castiel said before taking one final look at Dean. Sam blinked in surprise, and the angel was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry it took so long to continue this story. I haven't seen the last few episodes, and I guess the story has been kind of "Kripked" now, but we'll just call it AU and everyone's happy.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada, yada.

* * *

Dark Side of the Glass

Chapter 5

"_How certain are you that what you brought back is 100% pure Sam?"_

Dean saw the thing that looked like his brother rise from the bed and move towards him. He glanced around the room in panic, trying to find the best escape route.

"Dean?"

"No! No, no, no, no! Stay away from me!" Suddenly the room flickered, shifted, and he was looking at a vast space, empty except for what looked like chains criss-crossing the void. He screamed when he recognized the space: he had been dragged here months _(years)_ ago.

"NO! _Please, no_!"

He felt a stab of intense pain at his right shoulder quickly followed by another just under his ribs, and with a jolt he was spread-eagle, suspended over the void by shackles at his wrists and ankles. The horror of the moment he had felt so many months (years) ago slammed into him and he cried out in terror as he relived it.

"_Oh, God, somebody…help me! SAM!"_ He closed his eyes and screamed again in pain and anguish. Suddenly he felt a pair of strong hands grip his shoulders.

"_Dean_!" In a flash, the pain stopped. He felt the floor beneath his feet and the wall at his back. He almost slumped in relief before he remembered what had triggered the vision of Hell. He opened his eyes, fearful of what he would see, and saw his brother staring at him, deep concern in his hazel eyes.

"What the hell…? Sam? What's going on? What…?"

"Dean, what did you see?"

Dean looked up at his brother, at his expression, and paused. This was the old Sam, not the distant, dead-eyed, empty shell of a brother he had been with for the past few months. Sam's mournful eyes were searching Dean's face for some hint of what had caused Dean such distress.

_That was one Hell of a flashback, pun intended._

"Nothing. It's nothing, Sam. I…nothing."

"Dean…I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"Not your fault, Sam."

"Yeah, it is. I died."

"Sam, we've been through this--."

"No, Dean, _we_ haven't. I need to explain--."

"There's nothing to explain, Sam." Suddenly, Dean remembered what had started the current argument. "Except _why_ you took my stuff--."

"I didn't take--."

"And what's going on with this place. How you got in through a chained door without breaking it down, and I would have heard that. And--."

"The door wasn't chained."

"Of course it was. I--." He turned to point at the door and saw the chain was gone. "What the Hell?"

Sam huffed out a dry humorless laugh. "Yeah, pretty much."

Dean turned to stare at his brother. Sam was looking back at him with a mournful expression on his face, his shoulders hunched in defeat, and looking so much like the kid Dean remembered that he momentarily forgot his anger.

"What?"

"Hell, Dean. This is Hell."

Dean waited for the punch-line, the smart-ass remark he knew his brother should be making to try to defuse the drama, but Sam was silent.

"Not funny, Sammy."

"Not trying to be. I'm sorry, Dean."

"Stop saying that!" Sam bowed his head to stare at the floor, but not before Dean saw the tears start to fall.

"No…no, damn it! Castiel pulled me out." He started to pull up the left sleeve of his t-shirt. "How else would I have…" He turned the stare at his arm and froze in disbelief. The handprint was gone.

"What the _fuck_?" Wide-eyed, he turned back to Sam. "What--?"

"You weren't pulled out, Dean. At least, not _all_ of you."

"_All_ of me? Sam, what…what the _Hell_, man?"

"I guess I better fill you in."

"Yeah, that would be helpful." Dean stared around the room, waiting in fear for the walls to collapse and the version of Hell he knew to return, but they remained intact. He carefully sat down on the nearest bed and stared up at Sam, who looked like he was trying to figure out what to say. Finally, Sam spoke.

"It started with Cold Oak. A bunch of us 'special kids' were put there by the Yellow-Eyed Demon as some sort of elimination contest. It came down to me and this guy Jake. I wanted us to join forces, but Jake…he was convinced it would only work if one was left, like the demon wanted."

"I know all this, Sam, you already told me--."

"Just listen. Please." Sam waited, and when Dean didn't interrupt again, he continued. "We fought, and I managed to knock Jake out. I…I was going to kill him, but I couldn't. I knew I would just be playing into the demon's hands if I did, so I walked away. I paid for that act of mercy."

"Sam, I know—."

"At first all I felt was the pain. Then nothing. I…I felt you catch me, I heard you talking, telling me it would be OK, but then I was standing, watching. I saw you holding me…my body. And then the demon showed up…"

* * *

"_Sammy, I'm so disappointed. One of my kids, just… giving in."_

"_I'm _not_ one of yours. I never have been." Sam saw a man dressed in a dark suit suddenly appear behind the demon. "And now it's too late to change that." He turned to his brother, even though he knew in his heart that Dean could not hear him. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know you tried--."_

"_As touching as I'm sure this will be, I really do have other plans." The demon turned to the reaper and an expression of fear crossed its' face as it backed up a step. "Sorry, this one's not going with you." The demon grabbed the reaper by the throat and it screamed before vanishing in a flash of red light. "Bureaucrats. Can't stand 'em."_

"_You—!"_

"_Sorry, Sammy. You _are_ still mine. And I still have plans for you."_

_Before Sam could react, he was surrounded by a maelstrom of dark clouds. He screamed in fear as they swept him up and carried him away. He swayed, suspended in the center, frantically fighting invisible bonds. Suddenly, through the darkness he heard his brother's voice._

"_What am I supposed to DO?!?"_

_After what seemed like an eternity, Sam emerged from the storm to find himself standing in the middle of a gravel road, surrounded by scrub brush and dead trees. Suddenly he heard a familiar rumble and turned to see the Iimpala arrive._

"_Dean!"_

_His brother emerged from the car without a glance in Sam's direction and went to open the trunk. Sam ran over to see what his brother was gathering from the depths of the trunk and felt as if the earth had been pulled from beneath his feet when he saw the tin box in Dean's hand._

"_No Dean! NO! Please, tell me you can hear me. Don't do it! I'm begging you, man!"_

"_I'd say 'save your breath', but you don't actually have any." Sam turned in horror to see the demon, its murky yellow eyes glowing in apparent delight._

"_No, no, I'll do anything, just don't let him do this."_

"_Little late for that, Sammy. Besides, mercy is not my thing. It should have never been yours."_

_Sam turned back to Dean, screaming at him as he dug a hole in the center of the crossroads and put the box in it before covering it back up. Dean stood and looked around, and Sam hoped for a brief moment the crossroad demon wouldn't show._

"_Oh come on already. Show your face, you bitch!"_

"_Easy sugar, you'll wake the neighbors."_

"_NO! Dean, please, _listen_ to me!" Sam watched and listened in horror as his brother tried to sell his soul. He felt a brief moment of hope when the offer was refused, hope which was quickly dashed when Dean started to cut down the number of years. It returned again when the demon started to walk away._

"_Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint."_

"_Wait."_

_The crossroads demon smiled at Sam. "It's a fire sale, and everything must go." _

"_What do I have to do?"_

"_First of all, quit groveling. Needy guys are such a turnoff." She sighed. "Look...Look, I shouldn't be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You're like a... puppy. You're just too fun to play with. I'll do it."_

"_You'll bring him back?"_

"_I will. And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year. And one year only. But here's the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He's back to rotten meat in no time. So...it's a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?"_

_Sam screamed a warning, but it was too late. When Dean's lips met the crossroad demon's, Sam felt a bolt of pain rip through him and everything went white._

_When he woke up, he found himself in a room, much like the countless seedy hotel rooms he had lived in growing up._

"_Home sweet home, eh, Sammy?"_

"_What? Where…where's Dean? The crossroads demon was supposed to send me back to him."_

"_Yes, she was, but I had some say in that particular deal before it was even made. Your needy, pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive brother did exactly what I expected. Thing is, I still have a claim to you. The part of you that disappointed me needs to be punished. And here you are: your own private Hell. Well, for one year topside time, at least. Then again, you might not have that long to wait." The demon grinned and vanished._

* * *

"I never saw him again. I found out later that you killed him." Sam paused and met Dean's gaze. "Thank you for that."

Dean nodded, too shocked by his brother's tale to do much else. Sam continued his story.

"Eventually I started to look around. I found that mirror, and I saw…I saw you. And me, well, the part that went back. I could see what you were doing, what I was doing, during your last year. It was a just another form of torture the demon had ready for me. Seeing you counting down and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. But then…" He met Dean's gaze again and the amount of pain in his brother's eyes caused Dean to flinch.

"I heard the screams first. I had seen what happened, through the mirror and…I couldn't…" Sam drew in a deep breath. "I didn't think it could get any worse than seeing my brother ripped apart by Hellhounds. I was wrong."

"What--?"

"I heard you screaming and I ran out of the bathroom, and…you were _here_."

"Sam, that's impossible. I remember what Hell was like, and--."

"Here, but not here. Your, I don't know, physical soul seemed to be here, on that bed, but _you_ weren't here. Your mind, your consciousness, it was somewhere else. Suffering. I could _hear_ that. I could hear you screaming. You never stopped, until…"

"Until I got off the rack. Until I gave in, and started doing what they wanted me to. Torturing souls." Dean turned away, unable to bear his brother's disgust that he knew must be under the surface, that Sam was managing to hide.

"What are you talking about?" The genuine puzzlement in his brother's voice caused Dean to look up.

"What do you mean, 'what am I talking about'? If you could hear what was happening, you must have known--."

"Dean, you _never_ stopped screaming, not until…the angel."

"Wait a minute. I thought you said that never happened."

"I said it never pulled _you_ out. The part of you still here."

"Let…let me get this straight. Part of my…soul, or whatever, is back topside, and I'm…this part of it, is still in Hell."

"Best I can figure, yeah…"

"Huh. So…Hell is a crappy hotel room."

Sam barked out a surprised laugh. "Apparently. At least for us: all courtesy of the demon." His face sobered. "He tore us apart and put us together. But we weren't _together_. Not until now, at least."

"So how did that happen?"

Sam started to reply but was interrupted by a rumble of what sounded like thunder. Lightning arced through the room as the door burst open and the doorway was filled with a brilliant bright light. Forgetting everything else, the brothers dove to the floor and covered their eyes to block out the light that threatened to blind them. Slowly the light faded and their air was filled with a piercing whine, which morphed into a voice.

"Dean."

Dean cautiously raised his head and turned to the door, the scene before him causing him to freeze in terror. A figure was standing in the doorway, large white wings arcing out from what might have been its' shoulders. Its' face was vaguely familiar, but it's expression completely inhuman. What caused Dean's paralysis was not the being in front of him, but what it carried in its' arms: a human body, beaten, torn, and bloody, but clearly still conscious. Its' green eyes stared into Dean's and he was hit with a sudden feeling of déjà vu. It was as if he was back in the bathroom, staring into the mirror.

He was looking at himself.

Before he could react to this realization, the being spoke to him again.

"It's time to go."

Dean looked back at Sam, huddled against one of the beds, expression of abject terror on his face. Dean stood, squared his shoulders, and turned to face the intruder.

"Not without my brother."

* * *

A/N: Dialog in the "flashback" is taken in part from AHBL Part 2. No infringement intended.

One more chapter, and then an epilogue.


End file.
